Angel
by Alexis Erika Rose
Summary: All her life Angel DeChagny was told that she was the daughter of the Viscount, but when a tragic disaster reveals the truth to her will it drive her to insanity or will it be a new begining? Raoul lovers beware, some Raoul and Christine bashing
1. Prolouge

A/N Okay, since there were a few problems with my first attempt at this story I've decided to redo it. Raoul is a bit out of charcter, but only because I don't like him ;) he will always reamin The Fop! The story line is a bit different from most versions (as far as how it ends, and by that I mean the movies and books) but only for the purpose of my story. So here it goes.

Prolouge

Christine looked down at the tiny child in her arms. Her child, her first. Her precious Angel, Angelique Marie DeChagny. She looked to Raoul and said a silent prayer that she would give him many children, the heir that he deserved. She tried to stop the tears as she remembered the week she'd spent as the Phantom's bride. She touched the right side of her daughters face as bitter tears spilled. She would always have that to remind her of that frightening year, the Year of the Phantom.

She placed Angel in her crib and as she did so she noticed something different.

On a table in the room, there was a mahogany music box with a rose engraved on the top. She opened the box and a chill went down her spine as the familiar tune played.

_Masquerade paper faces on parade_

_Masquerade hide your face so the world will never find you_

She knew it was from without looking at the note,_ he knows._

_Dear Viscountess DeChagny,_

_A gift to theViscount's first child. I remain forever: _

_Your obediant friend and Angel,_

_Erik_

The words sounded so malevolent, but he didn't know, that was what mattered. At that moment Christine decided that her daughter would never know the truth, the truth of her deformed face, and most certainly not the truth of the Angel of Music.

A/N So, is that better?


	2. What is in a Name?

_**A/N: Wow! Finally Chapter two yay! I'm sure you are shouting, "Shut and up and write woman!" So here goes.**_

Chapter One: What is in a Name?

Angel sat in the rose garden scribbling furiously in her notebook. Writing was her creative outlet, since music was banned in the De Chagny household. Her father, the Viscount De Chagny, had almost forbidden the roses, but at her mother's insistence only the red roses were forbidden. Angel looked down at the story she had written, the story of her mother and the man who had inspired her name.

_It was the winter of 1870 and all sixteen year old Christine Daaé wanted to do was sing. She had been studying under a master of music, a dark and forbidding man known to her only as the Angel of Music. She believed that he was sent to her by her father, as Gustave Daaé had promised on his death bed._

Angel shook her head, wishing she had been named for her grandfather's promise and not for the murdering Angel as she feared. She just couldn't comprehend why a perfectly beautiful and normal person would choose to cut himself off from society by living deep underground and then stalk and terrorize a young girl. He must have been quite insane. Thoughts of him still haunted her mother, always there was a mixture of sadness and fear when she spoke of him, that was why Angel was writing the story down. It only took one beating for her to know her father wouldn't tolerate her endless thirst for knowledge bringing her mother anymore pain. Not that she could actually call the man father, it was difficult to believe he was when she was forbidden to address him as anything besides 'Messieur' or 'Viscount.'

Angel sighed and pulled her black hair over the marred side of her face. She hated the sight of it, the blue pulsing veins and the twisted scarred flesh disgusted her. There were no longer any mirrors in her room, every one she'd had had been broken as soon as she could reach them. She wondered if her face was why her father hated her? It was hard to tell since she was forbidden to hide it behind anything besides her hair. She'd lived with her face for sixteen years, she'd dealt with her siblings for fourteen of those yeas.

"Boo!"

Angel jumped up and turned around, glaring at the bane of her existence.

"Jonathan Raoul De Chagny!"

"What's the matter Angel? Afraid of a normal little boy, when you've got a face like that?"

Angel screamed and Jon took off running into the house. The fourteen year old boy was the second oldest of the De Chagny family, Angel being the oldest. There were three others; ten year old Michael James, six year old Andrea Michelle, and one year old Madelyn Danielle. Madelyn was the first baby who didn't cry and scream when she saw Angel's face. Anytime Angel wasn't in the rose garden she was with Madie. Madie had brought joy to her life where all else had failed. Before Madie there were many times Angel had wished to die.

Angel sighed longing to sing more that anything else in world. She looked around hastily to make sure no one was watching her and then took off running into the woods that surrounded the De Chagny house.

Angel arrived slightly out of breath and looked around at her cove. It was beautiful the sunlight danced playfully, reflecting through the emerald leaves of the trees, there was a small shallow pond that was a beautiful aqua blue, the woods were full of beauty and Angel loved it, especially when she could sneak away at night. She turned to her favorite tree, a slender silver birch that supported the vine of red roses she had planted. She brushed a velvet petal of one the deep scarlet roses as she inhaled the scent. She smiled, this was the one place where she was free to be herself. Alone and in peace. No one else knew about this place, maybe one day she would share this place with Madelyn, but for now she preferred to keep it her own. Angel took a deep breath inhaling the deep, rich smell of the woods and prepared to sing, but first there was one thing she needed. She reached into a hole in an Elm tree and pulled out her music box. Her father hated the music, but Angel loved it. She ran her hands over the smooth mahogany wood and traced the outline of the rose that was engraved into it. The music box had been a gift from someone at her birth, but Angel's mother wouldn't tell her who it was from. Angel opened the box and closed her yes as the hauntingly beautiful melody played. The second time through it Angel sang the words she knew went with it

_Masquerade_

_Paper faces on parade_

_Masquerade_

_Hide your face so the world will never find you_

Angel's mother had taught her those words and two other song before the Viscount banned music. Angel had only been five, but she remembered the other song perfectly even after eleven years.

_Nighttime sharpens_

_Heightens each sensation_

_Darkness wakes and stirs imagination_

_Silently the sense abandon their defenses_

Angel didn't know who had composed the song, but it was so beautiful. She wondered why her mother refused to speak of the song's composer.

_Slowly gently night unfurls it's splendor_

_Grasp it sense it tremulous and tender_

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light_

_And listen to the music of the night_

Angel sighed, cutting the song short, she really didn't want to sing someone else's songs. She reached into the Elm again and pulled out one of the few instruments she'd been able to purchase and hide, using money that she'd saved from the meager allowance her mother gave her. If Messieur le Viscount knew about them he would have a foppish fit, Angel smiled at the thought of the Viscounts face if he knew that she had been sneaking out at night for years and that she'd taught herself to play the flute, the violin, and the viola. This time she pulled out the flute.

Angel sat on a fallen tree and put the flute together. She raised the silver instrument to her lips and began a slow warm up. Once that was through she began to play a slow sweet song that she had written after on of many run ins with her father. The song was over all to soon and Angel sighed as the last not reverberated through the trees. Once that last note had faded into oblivion Angel began to play a more melancholy song that she had written on a day when thoughts of her face had grown overwhelming, it was the same day that she had slammed her fist into the mirror, shattering it and slicing her fingers, she still had the scars. The song spoke to her as always, of how she would never be accepted, of how no man would ever love her. She should have entered into the debutante society long ago, but her parents refused, knowing what the outcome would be. No nanny had ever taken Angel into her care and her mother was never enthusiastic about her care. So angel had practically raised her self, and had grown independent, a quality not appreciated in highbred wives.

Angel dried the tears from her eyes as she finished her song and placed the flute back in its case, deciding that she was done with music for the night. She turned to the elm tree and nearly dropped her flute in surprise. A strange man dressed all in black was standing there, how long had he been there. Angel touched her hair, glad that it was covering her hideous face. She vaguely wondered why the man was wearing a cloak in the summer and why the hood was pulled so low over his face. Angel's heart pounded in her chest. Did this man know who she was? Was he going to kidnap her for ransom? _Would my parents even pay the ransom, _she wondered.

"Good evening Mademoiselle De Chagny," he said smoothly. So he did know who she was.

"Wh-who are you?"

The man radiated intensity and Angel was intimidated.

"I am…. an old friend of your parents, you may call me Messieur le Ange."

"Why are you here Messieur le Ange? What do you want with me?" Angel wished her voice would stop shaking, it didn't help when Messieur d'Ange laughed, a cold baritone sound that made Angel take a step back.

"Have no fear little Angel, I bear no ill will to you. Tell me, how does your mother fare?"

"She… she is quite well, Messieur."

"Good… now tell me, Mademoiselle Viscountess…."

"That title, Messieur," Angel interrupted, "does not belong to me."

"Oh really? Your father will not pass his title on?"

"Oh he will, but not to me. I am the oldest yes, but the title does not go to me, but to my siblings. The Viscounts eldest son, my brother, Jonathan Raoul, will inherit the main estate and Michael James will inherit the countryside estate. Andrea Michelle and Madelyn Danielle will each get dowries, but I, Messieur, shall receive nothing, and not even my mother cares." Angel glared at the man, angry at her self for telling him so much.

"So, you and your…. siblings… do you get along well?"

"Not really no. Madie and I do, but she's to young to understand…… except the others…." Angel stopped unwilling to share anymore information with this man.

"Yes…." he prodded.

"Well we don't get along. I am the oldest and I am….. different. Suffice it to say that since Madie is a baby she doesn't understand theses differences. No if you will excuse me Messieur le Ange, I am nearly late for dinner." Angel placed the flute in the elm and hurried through the woods, pretending not to her him when he called after her.

"Your music was beautiful Mademoiselle Angelique."

_**A/N Hm….. Long and sort of a cliff hanger…. I wonder who that man was? Well I already know how Angel is going to leave the De Chagny home….. Very tragic, very sad….. Hee hee (cackles evilly) but you just have to wait and see. R and R please!**_


	3. Suspicions and the Truth

_**A/N Well Even though I have only received two new reviews….. (hint, hint) I'm beginning Chapter Three… well technically Two… but oh well any way here it is! **_

Chapter Two: Suspicions and the Truth

Angel reached home out breath and frightened nearly out of her wits…. Messieur le Ange, it couldn't be? Could that mysterious man have been the murdering Angel from her mother's past? Angel shook her head to clear her thoughts, it was almost dinner time and she couldn't let her family know about what had happened, not that they would take any notice of her, but most days that worked out for the best. She lingered in the garden letting the flowers and the chilled evening air comfort her.

Eventually dinner time came and Angel had to endure the tedious ritual of the servants nervous glances, her father's hateful glares and her mother's adverted gaze. Angel kept her gaze focused on her plate as she listened to her parents discuss the recent attacks on the local nobility. Three families her parents had known had been robbed and murdered in the night. It frightened Angel immensely. Her parents were among the most affluent families in France and a likely target.

Angel was relieved when the tiresome dinner was over and she was dismissed to her room. Instead of going to her own room though, she went to see Madelyn. She held the little baby in her arms, she was so small and fragile. Madie smiled at her and spoke in her baby gibberish to her. Angel smiled back. Some of the words were recognizable, like her name.

It was a shame that this little girl would be raised without the joy of music in her life. Angel dismissed the servants for a while and decided that her parents would probably be busy downstairs. She knew her mother wouldn't come upstairs, having been warned by doctors to take it easy with this new pregnancy since the last miscarriage. Angel decided to sing to her favorite little sister, right under the Viscount's foppish nose. Angel smiled as she began her song.

"If you gave me just a coin for every time we say goodbye  
Well I'd be rich beyond my dreams, I'm sorry for my weary life  
I know I'm not perfect but I can smile  
And I hope that you see this heart behind my tired eyes  
If you tell me that I can't, I will, I will, I'll try all night  
And If I say I'm coming home, I'll probably be out all night  
I know I can be afraid but I'm alive  
And I hope that you trust this heart behind my tired eyes  
I'm no angel, but please don't think that I won't try and try  
I'm no angel, but does that mean that I can't live my life  
I'm no angel, but please don't think that I can't cry  
I'm no angel, but does that mean that I won't fly  
I know I'm not around each night  
And I know I always think I'm right  
I can believe that you might look around  
I'm no angel, but please don't think that I won't try and try  
I'm no angel, but does that mean that I can't live my life  
I'm no angel, but please don't think that I can't cry  
I'm no angel, but does that mean that I won't fly. "

Just as she ended her song Angel jumped at the noise behind her. She slowly put Madelyn down and slowly turned around, terrified by the look of anger and hate that twisted her father's face. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out in the face of her father's rage. Her heart hammered in her chest and her breath became rapid and shallow as the memories of the last time she'd been caught singing surfaced in her mind. The Viscount took a step toward her and she backed into the wall.

"I thought I told you never to sing in my house," he hissed through clenched teeth. "It upsets your mother."

His words startled Angel, her mother loved music, she had been an Opera singer.

"That's not true," she whispered. "Maman loves music."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Angel shook her head, regretting her quick tongue. There had to be a way to get out of this.

"I-I'm sorry Messieur Viscount…. I-I just wanted Madelyn to know what music was, the joy it could bring…." Angel wished her voice would stop quivering.

"You're afraid of me, aren't you Angelique?"

She nodded.

"Good, you should be. This reckless abandonment of the rules is disrespectful, after all I've done for you… taking you in, raising you like you were my own….." Raoul stopped, his face lost all color and Angel started.

"One of your own? But… I am your daughter? Aren't I?" Her voice sounded pathetic, whiney and frightened to her own ears. She fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

The Viscount sighed and shook his head.

"Your mother wanted you to believe that, Christine is your mother, but I am not your father. Madie and the others are your half siblings,"

Angel shook her head, refusing to believe.

"If your not my father….." Angel was afraid to ask the question, afraid she already knew the answer, but she needed to know.

"Your real father is Erik, I don't a lot about him, all I know is that is a murdering monster."

"No! It's not true," Angel screamed, the tears she'd tried to hold back falling freely down her paled cheeks.

"Silence! Your mother will hear you and she doesn't to be upset in her delicate condition! It is true weather you chose to believe it or not is up to you. Your father was a delusional maniac who his deformities behind a mask, the same deformities you inherited! You are the same monster he was! You are not my child and I forbid you to come near my children!"

Angel ran, sobbing, out of the room fleeing to the safety of the room that was hers. She threw herself onto her bed and sobbed into her pillow until she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

It was well past midnight when a commotion outside woke her. She rose and went the window to see what was going on. She saw her fa… Raoul arguing with another man, there were several others on horseback in the yard, and they all had guns.

_**A/N: Gasp! Cliff Hanger! Muwahahaha! R and R please, I have decided to cycle my writing: a chapter on Fallen Angels, then Angel, then the Rose! Forgive me if it takes a while, but it's difficult to find time to write, with two AP classes and an Honors class. So I ask that you bear with me and please review.**_

_**PS: The next Chapter is the one where Angel leaves….**_

_**Note: Anything you recognize I don't own Songs that have already been used belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber or Dido, Angel and the other children kind of belong to me, but not really if you think about it because I don't own their parents.**_


	4. Ange de Musique

Chapter Three: Ange de Musique

Angel stepped back from the window in shock. She had to get closer and hear what was going on. She reached for a robe before realizing that she had fallen asleep in her dinner dress. She absent mindedly smoothed the blue fabric as she stepped quietly out of her room and crept towards the stairs. She was grateful the ability to move without sound, even if it had startled her fath… the Viscount into a few beatings. Angel stopped suddenly at the soft frightened noise behind her. It was just barely audible over the muted yelling out side. She turned quickly and saw Andrea's pale face framed by the tousled gossamer curls, her green eyes wide and frightened.

"An-Angelique?" the girl whispered.

"What is the matter Andrea?"

"I'm scared," Andrea sobbed, tears beginning to stream down her soft, round face. "Are Maman and Papa going to be okay?"

"Mère and Père will be fine, ma petite. Now go back to bed."

The child nodded and turned slowly returning to bed. Angel moved swiftly and silently down the stairs until she stood in the shadows behind the door.

She could her the men raging at the Viscount. Calling him all sorts of things, just because he was wealthy and while Angel agreed with these things, she did not agree with the awful things they said about her mother. Christine's only fault was her puerile weakness. Angel trembled with fear as the men threatened The Viscount and her mother if the did not hand over all their money and jewels immediately.

"Please…." Christine pleaded, "Please I have four children, one is but an infant, and one more coming. Please…"

Angel quelled the sadness that filled her, she knew she wasn't one of the four children her mother mentioned. She was used to not hearing her mother say she had five children and not four.

"Silence woman!"

Angel flinched as she heard the sound of someone slapping her mother. She felt the tears falling from her own eyes as her mother sobbed helplessly.

"We do not care about your little brats. Now go and get you husbands money for us."

"She cannot." Raoul sad suddenly.

"Oh and why not?"

"She does not know where it is. Do you think I would let a woman know where my accounts are?"

"I see. Woman, go and fetch all your jewelry while I chat with your husband here."

Angel moved deeper into the shadows as her mother trudged inside to do as the bandit commanded.

_Oh Messieur Raoul do not give them the information, they will kill you….._ Angel pleaded silently with the man whom she had known as her father for sixteen years.

"Now tell us where the accounts are and perhaps we will spare your family."

Unfortunately Angel's silent pleas did nothing to change her father's mind. He calmly told them his accounts and how to access them. Angel screamed when the gun fired.

"Who's there?" The leader called.

"No one Messieur, just a lowly serving girl…. " Angel replied.

"Come out where I can see you."

"No Messieur, I would really rather not…" Angel realized now her mistake, she was wearing a fancy silk dress, they would never believe she was a servant.

"Come out here now, or we will burn this house to the ground."

Angel stepped outside, her hair still hiding the marred side of her face, just as her mother rushed out with her jewels. Christine's face paled at the sight of her husband's pale, crumpled form on the grounded. Angel noted that he was breathing shallowly and prayed that her mother would have the sense not to say anything.

"You are either a lying little wench or you have been trying on your mistress's clothes while she slept. Which is it?"

Angel glanced at her mother who was to distraught to even think clearly.

"Messieur, I am the Viscountess's daughter, but not the Viscount's. I am the product of a previous… union."

The man raised his eyebrows and Christine looked at her in shock, but said nothing. The man shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands for Christine's jewels. She handed them over reluctantly.

"Mademoiselle….."

"le Ange," Angel provided, finally putting two and two together, though not fully believing it,

"Mademoiselle le Ange, why do you hide your face so?"

"If I were to show you Messieur, you would die of fright," Angel replied bitterly. The man shrugged, shot her mother and rode off into the distance. Angel screamed and ran to her mother's side.

"Maman? Maman, please answer me…."

"Angelique…. Ma petit ange…."

Tears streamed down Angel's face.

"Angel…. Go to him… le Ange de musique….. Ange de le mort… your father….. He will take care of you…. The others….." she coughed, blood staining her lips as she did so. Angel looked at the Viscount's still form, moving only slightly when he took his shallow breaths. "The other's will be okay…. Go to him…'

"Oh Maman….. I love you…." Angel sobbed. But her mother never responded. Never said the words that Angel had been longing to hear since she was old enough to remember. So Angel, went inside, changed into a black dress and a black cloak and set of to find her father, the Angel of Music…..The Angel of Death.


	5. United Sort of

A/N Okay, I'm not getting any response on any of my stories, and that worries me. So please, please, please review, it seriously encourages me to update sooner.

_**Disclaimer: I own nufing! Well maybe Angel and the other kids, but you know…. The song belongs to whoever owns it… It's title is "Unchained Melody" Maybe you know who owns it, lot's of people sing it…. Including the magnificent Il Divo!**_

Chapter Four: United…. Sort of

Angel rode as fast as she could, the wind whipping her tangled black hair around her face, but she did nothing to hide her face. It was midnight and the moon bathed Paris in her thin silvery light. She arrived at the old Opera house after what felt like hours of hard riding. She paused a moment before entering what was once the brightest spot in all France, and gazed up at the cold, twinkling stars.

The Opera house was nothing compared to it's old glory, the statues of the Greek Gods that had was gleamed golden and bright were now tarnished and dim. The once vibrant carpeting was torn and faded. Angel looked around at all the dust and cobwebs that marred what had once been a building of fame and glory, the heart of France. Angel shook her head, longing to hear music echoing through this glorious building once more. She quickened her step as she walked through the dark halls to the dressing room she had often heard her mother wistfully describe.

The room was coated in a thin layer of grey dust, but it was still glorious. She approached the gilded mirror, her hated reflection staring back at her. She brushed the cold silvery glass gingerly with her finger tips, totally in awe of the beauty of this building. She triggered the mechanism and swiftly and silently slipped behind it. She crept down the endless tunnels silently, vaguely aware of the dim echoing music that floated to her hears. It was so beautifully melancholic… Angel sighed as she approached the vast underground lake, it's still black waters glimmered in the soft candlelight and in it Angel saw reflected her icy black soul. She shivered for a moment and pulled the cloak tighter around herself, as she took a step into those icy black waters and towards her future.

Erik's voice wavered slightly as her remembered the De Chagny girl he had talked to earlier that day. There was something familiar about her… that long black hair that curl so like Christine's and those cold unfeeling blue eyes… eyes that held such a depth of ill hidden pain and loneliness… and that beautiful haunting music she had played…. Erik shook his head and began his own song over again, blissfully unaware of the person that moved closer toward him, and their fate.

Angel paused a moment as she reached the edge of the water. She pulled the hood of her black cloak over her head and grabbed the sword she had found on her fat…. Raoul's horse. The blade was thin and cruel, but Angel felt she might have need of it, perhaps if the monstrous man was not really her father… which she prayed was so, then she might could kill him and then Raoul would except her… but she doubted even that. However, if the man was as dangerous as she had been told then she would need the sword and the fencing lessons she had managed to get while helping her brothers practice. She took her time entering the underground "house," fearful of what she would find, the murderer who supposedly haunted this place.

She looked around, searching for the man who inhabited the dreary place. She passed through several rooms; bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, until she heard a haunting and beautiful music while she was inspecting one of the bedrooms. She moved closer to the music, only vaguely aware of where she headed. As she moved closer she was able to make out a faint voice that grew increasingly louder as she grew closer. Finally she entered a room that seemed to be a "music room." She stopped dead in her tracks as the voice overpowered her.

"Oh, my love, my darling  
I've hungered for your touch  
A long, lonely time  
And time goes by so slowly  
And time can do so much  
Are you still mine  
I need your love  
I need your love   
God, speed your love to me  
Lonely rivers flow to the sea to the sea  
To the open arms of the sea  
Lonely river sigh, wait for me, wait for me  
I'll be coming home  
Wait for me  
Oh, my love, my darling  
I've hungered, hungered for your touch  
Oh, my, lonely time  
And time goes by so slowly and time can do so much  
Are you still mine, I need your love I need your  
love, God speed your love to me."

As the song closed Angel blinked back tears from here eyes, somehow she knew the song was about her mother, and now she had to tell this man that she was dead. She shook her head remembering that this man was a murderer and had terrorized her mother. _And he is your father…_ a small voice inside her head reminded her. The man, dressed in all black as he had been that day in the garden, turned around and Angel tightened her grip on the sword. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words left her as she saw the cold white mask, gleaming on the right side of his face.

Erik stared at the small black-clad figure before him. For a moment he thought that it was his avenging angel finally come to end his miserable existence. He smiled coldly at the intruder, deciding that any decent death-angel would be wearing shoes.

"Mademoiselle, how is it you have arrived in my humble abode?"

"I- My mother told me to come here… She often described to me the way here, though that was when I was younger."

Erik was momentarily startled he recognized the voice of the oldest De Chagny, but there was a new element to it that was vaguely familiar.

"And you remembered all this time? Brava." He kept his voice cold, nonchalant.

"Messieur le Ange," she choked on the name, her voice breaking slightly, " why do you wear the mask?"

Erik's cold smile melted from his face and he stared icily at the girl.

"That, child, is none of your concern," he hissed frigidly.

"You are wrong Messieur it is my concern!" Angel said in a low whisper as she raised the sword. "Now take off the mask, or forfeit your life."

Erik peered into the darkness underneath the girl's dark cloak, and sighed. The girl certainly had spirit.

"Believe me child," he said wearily, "you do not want to see what terror lies behind this mask."

"Believe me Messieur, I am prepared."

Erik shook his head and slowly lifted the mask from his face. He closed his eyes and prepared him self for the girl's terrified screams.

Angel stared at the man in shock. In his face she herself reflected. She caught a momentary glimpse of the pain hidden in the deep the blue before he closed them, pain she knew was reflected in her own blue eyes. He had the same dark hair and the same grotesque distortion. She took in the twisted, scared flesh, the pulsing blue veins, the pale, waxen skin held taut over the bone like a terrifying corpse. She dropped the sword and the clatter of metal against stone resonated through the room. A strangled sob escaped her throat and more clawed their way up her throat; she fell to her knees and let the tears flow freely.

Erik opened his eyes at the sound of the sword hitting the floor. He took in the grief-stricken figure on her knees before him. Her head was bowed and terrible desolate sobs shook her petite frame.

"I warned you childe," Erik whispered hoarsely.

"No…. no it's- it's not that…. It's…. it's just that. Oh I can't believe it's true…" she moaned pitifully.

Erik looked at her quizzically.

"Well, what is it then?"

The girl threw back the hood of her cloak and stared him in the eye.

"You are my father."

A/N: Well it's a cliffy I know, but I'm not sure where to go now… So please review with suggestions all credit will be given to whomever it is due. So please review and help me out.


	6. Broken Hearts and Shattered Lives

A/N: I feel so terrible! I've these next too chapters written since May! Ack! I'm so so so so so so so so so sooooooooooo……….. Sorry every one! Please forgive me! Also I would like to add that I am considering abandoning this fic, because I have so many and I'm not sure where to go with this. Any ideas will be appreciated and attributed.

Chapter five: Broken Hearts and Shattered Lives

Angel looked up at the man before her. His hair was the same glossy black as hers, his eyes the same intense blue, they were so dark they almost seemed black, they reminded her of thunderclouds right now, with all the emotion flashing in them, but all these physical similarities could be coincidence. It was the face that gave it away. That same grotesque distortion that marred the right of side of his handsome face marred the right side of her's as well.

"You're… You're my father…" she whispered again, the words falling from her trembling lips like the tears falling from her eyes. She silently cursed the tears that slipped through the crevices of the scarred twisted flesh on one side of her face and slid down the smooth skin of the other. She hated crying it made her seem as weak as her mother had been. "There is so much she kept from me… so much she hid…Why didn't she tell me?" Angel looked up, still kneeling on the floor, into her father's eyes and saw shock and disbelief. "She never told you either. You had no idea… All these year I lived with... with those people… who didn't… understand me… and… and…"

"And if your mother had bothered to write me I would have gladly taken you in and raised you myself," he said with a sigh. "Oh, Angel, I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry. If only I had known… if she had told me... Or if I'd done my research better… but that was the point wasn't it?" he asked bitterly. "We were never supposed to meet, never supposed to know…I can't believe Christine would keep this from me, I have a daughter. My child, my angel… but if you didn't know then why did you come here? What did Christine tell you about me?"

Angel watched as her father's gaze traveled to the cruel thin blade she had dropped earlier. It was still lying there gleaming in the candlelight.

"You… You came to kill me…" Angel's heart seemed to shatter at the pain in his voice. "They would have let my own daughter murder me!" Angel nodded slowly in painful conformation.

"Yes and I would have to if were not this," she motioned to her face, for once in her life glad that it was so deformed. "I thought after I had…killed you … that the… the Viscount would accept me as his daughter…."

"They let you believe that that… that… fop was your father!" Angel nodded.

"They told me so many terrible things about you… I wonder now how much of it was true…but Maman… she loved to talk about your voice… she even taught me some of your songs before the Viscount banned music entirely… Oh Maman!" Angel buried her face in her hands and began to sob mournfully.

Erik watched, his heart breaking, as his daughter sobbed. It was going to be a difficult adjustment for him and her as well. It angered him to think that for 16 that pompous pig of a Viscount had raised his daughter letting her believe that he was some kind of a monster. He knew that was why Christine hadn't told them about each other… she didn't want Angelique raised by a monster, a demon, to become the same.

That was when it him that Angelique had never referred to her mother in present tense. He had thought she might be crying her name out of sheer distress, but perhaps there was another reason.

"Child, I think it is time that you told me your story, beginning with your earliest memory."

Angelique looked up him, her blue eyes wide and red rimmed.

"M-my earliest memory?"

He nodded.

"Well," she began slowly, "my earliest memory… I suppose would be of the time when my mother actually loved me, before Jonathan was born. I couldn't have been more than two. Even then the Viscount hated me; he hated me with ever foppish fiber of his being." She smiled faintly, and Erik felt his heart lift a little. "But Maman was so kind to me back then, it was she who taught me to love Music, though some of that was natural I'm sure. I remember she always sang me a lullaby, one in particular was her favorite," Angelique began to sing some of the song and Erik recognized it as the one he had serenaded his Angel of Music with on the night of her debut. "She…she loved me then, she would always whisper as she left 'Bon nuit, ma petit ange…'"

A/N Sorry for the short Chappie… I took a nerve pill and I need some sleep!


	7. A New Hope

Chapter Six: A New Hope

Erik looked down at the crying girl before him in silent disbelief. His beloved Christine was dead, murdered by a bandit for that fop's incompetence. Mixed emotions surged through him Hate, anger, pain, and grief tore at his heart. He had a strong desire to go and kill that worthless Viscount right that very minute, but for now he only stared at the backs of his black gloved hands in numb disbelief.

"Christine, Christine…. My angel, my beautiful Christine….," Erik whispered. "I… I cannot believe that she is… she is gone. I… I should have been there!" Erik stood up quickly, knocking over the piano stool in the process. "That… that stupid worthless Fop! He was no more worthy of Christine than….than… than.." Erik screamed and knocked his music onto the floor. He feel to his knees with his hands in his hair as sobbed. "Christine….Christine…"

* * *

Angel watched as the Pha… her father, mourned for her mother. This man who only moments before had seemed cold and intimidating now seemed helpless and small. Angel had the feeling that this man had loved her mother more than the Viscount was capable of. 

While it was true that Christine hadn't been much of a mother to Angel after Jonathan had been born, she knew there was a time that her mother had loved her and that deep down, in her own way, Christine had always loved her.

Angel felt tears flood her eyes as she thought of the waste the last sixteen years of her life had been…but her father was what Raoul had said, a murderer.

"Oh lord what am I to do?" she sobbed. The tears streamed down her cheeks again. Once she had never cried, cursing it as a weakness, but in the past few hours it seemed that crying was all she had done. How quickly things could change, one moment had completely changed her life.

* * *

Erik looked at his daughter, who was still sitting on the floor and was now crying again. He wasn't really sure he wanted the responsibility of raising a child, but he couldn't very well send her back to that foppish pig of a viscount, especially not after what he had done to her. 

"What do you mean 'what am I going to do'?" he said sternly, "Of course you're going to stay with me."

Angel looked up at him, her face was pale and her red-rimmed eyes were puffy, well the normal one was at least, but her eyes now held something more than the empty pain and saddness he had seen at first. They had the same look as those of wounded animal only hers held something more, her eyes had a flicker of hope.

"Really? You mean it?"

"Absolutely Angelique, I rarely ever say anything I don't mean."

She smiled at him and his heart melted. He knew he would do anything for the child, even if it meant dying for her.

"Would you like to know what your name really is?"

She nodded slowly.

"Angelique Marie Orageux."

* * *

Angel turned the name over in her mind. She liked it, it was better than De Chagny and the connotations where certainly better. She smiled, at least now she knew who she was. She looked up at her father and smiled at him, a smile full of love and hope, a smile he returned. Then on a moments whim she moved over to him and threw her arms around him in a hug. The hug Raoul had never shared with her. 

Erik was caught of guard by his daughters hug, but it only took him a moment, to respond. He threw his arms around her as tears of joy, love, and even hop spilled from both there eyes. She had her love and he his redemption and that was all they needed to move on.

A/N ok so for now that's it. I have nothing after this. If I think of something or if someone suggests something good, then it will go on, If not... then well, I hope that was a satisfying enough ending. Til then- Alexia

PS The last name means stormy in french.


End file.
